This was taken by Doug, my pastor, on his most recent vacation.
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sweet! Isn’t there an Addison Road in Washington DC too? Is that where the song originated?
So. Um, awkward. I never knew what Addison Rd. meant and why this blog was called so in particular (it’s a song?).
This shows an alarming lack of curiosity on my part and also an apparent lack of musical knowledge, both of which give me pause.
So, (drumroll, please) why is this blog called Addison Rd., Unca Mike?
Time for an audio file, Mike, of the greatest scat solo of all time.
Oh, crap, my ignorance is of the JAZZ music variety? Shite…
No need to feel embarrassed, my dear. For my senior composition recital, I wrote a piece for big band and vocal jazz ensemble called “Blue Line to Addison Road”. It was a very angsty sort of thing, as were most of the pieces in that recital.
At this point in the history of the APU school of music we didn’t really have any jazz vocalists, so we had to piece an ensemble together out of bits and scraps. Two of them did a phenomenal job (Aly and Jud) and the other two of them were … enthusiastic to be helping out!
For some reason (still not clear on why, exactly), one of the less than solid guys ended up doing the extended scat solo in the middle of the tune. Enjoy.
Blue Line to Addison Road
I can’t even listen to the whole thing. It’s that painful.
Wow. Wow.
…
Wow.
1. Aly, I forget sometimes how insanely you kick ass singing. Wait, no I don’t. But I’m always glad to hear New Aly Singing Samples to remind me anyway. What a pity that you profaned Sweet Little Jesus Boy and that angry blogger arranged for God to take your talent away. At least you and Ash sounded righteous doing it.
2. Michael, holy crap! That arrangement’s…damn. Very cool. And very hard! But man - really thick in all the right ways. IMO.
3. Yeh, that guy sounded really happy to be there, and I can picture his game face in my mind.
4. Sometimes I wish I taught vocal jazz (wait, no I don’t) just so I could put young musicians out in the world who didn’t start out their solos with Dwee, severely limited the amount of Doo and Baahh, and never under any circumstances used Skiddiley in their scat vocabulary.
I’ve got an Addison Rd here in Burbank. I’m stealing the sign tonight, Mike.
A gray Monday combo for ya: listen to that piece whilst looking at Aly’s photo of Mike.
(Then call Zack for narcotics and alcohol.)
Mike, I’m lobbying for you to post the entire recital as a celebration of its 10th anniversary.
I second the motion. All in favor say Skiddiley.
Skiddiley..dwee ba (or something like that).
In fact, for the 10th anniversary I can mail a copy to any and all who would like it as we still have an entire box of CDs in storage. Mike would kill me. I’m still totally proud of his recital, he on the other hand has become more talented and a better writer in the last 10 years (IMO) and is therefore a bit embarrassed by it I think. (As are some of our frequent authors/killer vocalists who are also better now 10 years later…) but I love it all the same :)
I think I’ve found a new favorite song!
In Washington DC, Summer 1996, on the metro, was heard, “Blue Line to Addison Road.” Aly said something to Mike like, “Someone should write a jazz tune with that name…” The rest is history.
I still have the program from MIke’s senior recital. I think it warranted a photographer and graphic designer. My husband bows to it, as his program was created the afternoon of his recital at a copy machine.
I would like to brag that my big brother played in this recital, which is meaningful to me, as two of my favorite people on the planet played on the same stage and I just got to sit and watch.
For a final random thought, there is a girl named Addison in one of my classes, and since I don’t know her very well, in order to remember her name I just imagine her blogging. (In first grade)
PS - Gretchen, we have our own boxes of CDs from projects. They make great coasters.
And when you’ve been out of college as long as the Stick and I have, you might find yourself filling large garbage bags with old cassettes (!), cd’s, dat thingies, and endless cables (eeeeeeeendless), muttering all the while….only to have a music major from yesteryear approach you and with an equal amount of muttering, unpack all those bags and replace the cassettes, cd’s and cables (each with at least 17 connectors for each end) that have not been touched in 15 years to the already crammed full shed….the shed that replaced the garage which was turned into a recording studio.
Not that I have any personal history of this sort. I’m just saying, it could happen.
(I left out the screenprinted tee’s and sweatshirts. Low quality tees and sweatshirts mind you, with bad graphic design ‘pon them. Oh, and the posters of big-toothed, big-haired musical groups which must remain in their cardboard tubes, pristinely preserved for…..um….uh……………for?…………..)
for blackmail